


Incriminating Photographs

by MistyBeethoven



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV)
Genre: Bathrooms, Comedy, Detectives, Discovery, F/M, Kink Discovery, Naughty, Photographs, Photography, Public Sex, Stonehenge - Freeform, pornographic photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Poirot makes a shocking discovery about his best friend and his secretary.





	Incriminating Photographs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mosriteluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosriteluv/gifts).

> Inspired by a dream and dedicated to my wonderful sister!

Of course, when Arthur Hastings began his fascination with photography, Hercule Poirot did not take his friend very seriously. The Captain had a way of starting little hobbies only to abandon them in a few short weeks when some new latest trend caught his eye. The only thing that really had managed to catch and keep his interest was racing in general, be it cars or horses. However, when the tall thin gentleman continued carrying around his camera long after it could be called new, and still irritatingly comandeered his washroom to develop his photographs, the little Belgian detective had the distinct feeling that something was up.

"So you like the photography, non, Mon Ami?" Poirot asked one day as he was carefully grooming his moustache while his friend read the morning paper.

"Oh yes!" Hastings absently exclaimed. "It's good fun and all that."

"Hastings? Why do you no longer let me see your photographs?"

The Captain lowered the newspaper and gave his innocent reply: "I didn't think you'd be interested in seeing them."

Weighing his friend's words, Poirot conceded that it was probably true; there was only so many times you could see cars or horses before you began to feel the little grey cells dying.

Hercule went back to trimming his moustache as Miss Lemon brought him his teasan. Had he looked up, however, he would have noticed the perculiar way that his secretary was looking at the Captain, reclining on the sofa, or the naughty little wink that he gave her before she left the room.

* * *

"Don't go into the bathroom, will you, Poirot?" Captain Arthur Hastings asked as he put his jacket and hat on. "I have my photographs in there drying off."

The tall man was heading off to the bank to withdraw some funds. He seemed particularly excited about the vacation he was taking to Paris. Coincidentally it coincided with Miss Lemon's own vacation. It was just as well Poirot thought; he was heading off to Holland for a bit and he hated for his secretary to be alone in the office for two weeks.

"But what if I need to use the _toilettes_?" the Belgian detective exclaimed. "Hastings I..."

"Thanks old boy! I'll be back!" Hercule heard Arthur shout and then the door closing shut behind him.

Poirot exhaled sharply in frustration. His colleague had once again proven his remarkable knack for not listening. Trying to ignore it, and hoping that the urge he has been ignoring for three hours already would hold off until Arthur Hastings returned, the little Belgian crossed his legs and tried to think of other things.

Finding it increasingly difficult, and Captain Hastings taking unusually long to reappear, Poirot hastily made his way to the washroom. Although he felt bad about disregarding his friend's warning, Poirot knew that the younger man had equally ignored his words, as well. Besides, Poirot told himself, it was his bathroom after all and only right that he should be able to use it when it was an emergency.

And this was an état d'urgence!

Fortunately, Miss Lemon was out on business so he did not need to worry about her telling on him. Poirot smiled uncomfortably. He would be in and out and nobody would be the wiser.

Mincing into the bathroom, the detective tried his best to ignore the many photographs which Hastings had strung up and attend to the matter of most dire importance.

Once finished, Poirot washed his hands and dried then off. He was turning to leave when, alas... It is a well known fact that when one is trying not to look at something their eyes will inevitably come to rest on the very thing that they are trying to avoid. Such was the case with Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings photographs. To be fair to the little Belgian detective, the photos were hanging up in virtually every corner and space of the room so it was a credit to his willpower that he had avoided seeing any for so long.

His eyes having landed on one, Poirot's little grey cells quickly went to work trying to figure out what it was. It always takes the brain a few seconds to process an unknown image, and the Belgian furrowed his brow in concentration for a moment or two until he realized just what it was that he was staring at.

"Non!" he exclaimed in complete and utter shock. 

Surely, Hastings would never take such a photo! Upon looking at it, however, he knew that it was true. The photograph was of a naked woman! At first, Poirot believed that his friend had started to freelance and was taking on work as one of those horrid detectives; the type that handled sordid divorce cases, which delighted catching people in the act of infidelity. Indeed a hastily taken glance showed that some of the photographs contained a man with the naked woman but he was surprised on closer inspection to see that the man was Hastings himself! 

Feeling himself stumble, Hercule Poirot then turned to focus his attention on the woman. She was the same one in every single of Captain Arthur Hastings pictures. To his shock and horror, he saw that he knew who she was after closer examination. Although he had not initially recognized her without her clothing and with her long hair down instead of up, Poirot now saw that it was none other than his faithful secretary, Miss Felicity Lemon!

Hercule Poirot was astounded. He had believed that Miss Lemon's clothes were glued on! Yet there she was in nothing so much as a garter! The only thing that the woman was wearing was a hungry smile and a naughty glint in her eyes. 

There she was draped across a sofa! Another photograph found her straddling a fence! Why there she was on the hood of the Captain's Lagonda!

If these were not bad enough, the photos of Lemon and Hastings were even more scandalous! Poirot wiped his sweaty brow off with the silk handkerchief from his pocket. It seemed that his secretary and friend had enjoyed fornicating all over the country! There was Hastings face buried in Lemon's lap as she lay on a stone in Stonehenge, an unsettling look of pleasure on her face as her mouth hung open in shocked delight. There too was that same mouth wrapping its painted lips around the Captain's, thankfully now concealed, member at Northanger Abbey!

Poirot stood inside the former sanctuary of his bathroom that had recently been made, without his consent, into a studio for Captain Hastings' and Miss Lemon's pornographic adventures. Grabbing a photo as evidence, the detective gasped as he heard the door to the apartment open.

"I'm back Poirot!" he heard Hastings call.

Hercule stuffed the photograph in his pocket behind his damp handkerchief. He waited until he heard Hastings inside his office, then quickly scurried out.

"Oh there you are!" Hastings smiled as he put his hands inside of his pockets. "I was wondering where you had gotten off to. I say, old boy! Are you quite all right? You look quite ill."

Knowing that he wanted to collect his thoughts before confronting his friend with his discovery, Poirot tried to walk steadily to his desk. "I am all right Hastings. I just was a little hungry and needed to grab a morsel to eat. What took you so long, Mon Ami?"

"I bumped into Miss Lemon and we got to talking."

Poirot fought a frown. It looked like he had certainly been bumping into the secretary quite often but they certainly did not look like they had been doing much talking: their mouths were usually occupied and full. "That's nice," was all that he said past a smile so bright it was obviously phony.

The Captain did not notice, however, resuming his former place on the couch and behind the paper. Poirot sat at the desk patiently biding his time. When he heard his absent secretary return, he found himself squirm in anxiety.

"I'm back Mr. Poirot," she announced.

"_Bon_," the Belgian detective said. "When you have finished removing your coat I would like to see you in my office."

When she stepped into the office, Poirot offered his false smile once more. It was difficult getting the horrible photographs out of his mind and would need to seek therapy as soon as possible. Now was the time for confrontation though.

"Captain Hastings since this concerns you, as well, please stand _s'il vous_ _plait_."

The Captain put aside the morning newspaper and stood beside Lemon. Seeing them side by side, Poirot found his mind beseiged by flashing images of them copulating. Trying to stay focused, he grabbed the photo from out of his pocket and presented it to them. "What is this?"

"It's a bum," Captain Hastings said. 

"I know what it is!" exclaimed Poirot.

"Oh," Arthur said. "I wasn't sure. You've never seemed particularly interested."

Hercule ignored the last comment. "And whose bum is it?"

"Mine," Felicity Lemon smiled proudly. "Although it isn't my finest picture, I'm afraid. Arthur has taken far better ones."

She turned her smile on the Captain, whom happily returned it.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Poirot shouted as he stood and placed both hands on his desk. "Why have you turned my bathroom into a studio _de_ _pornographe_?!"

"Well I did tell you to stay out of it," Hastings said, returning his hands to his pockets.

"But it is _my_ washroom Hastings!" the irate Belgian argued.

"Oh right," the Captain frowned.

"Dirty little man getting your thrills looking at our photographs!" Miss Lemon snapped.

"I...I..." Poirot stammered.

"I'll take that, if you don't mind," she said and walking over to the desk ripped the photograph out of her boss' hand and stormed back to her office.

"Hastings what is the meaning of this?" Hercule asked falling back into his chair.

Arthur smiled comfortingly. "Felicity and I have been seeing each other for months now. One day she let me use my camera to take photos of her sans clothing, as you say. Jolly good of her, don't you think? I got carried away after that, I'm afraid, and just had to join her. The timer helps tremendously!"

"Are you aware that you could be arrested," Poirot sighed. "What if Japp found out or saw?"

"Well we're very careful," the Captain stated. "And after I develop them here, I take them home for my own personal enjoyment."

The small Belgian detective pensively considered his friend's words. "Well please don't get caught cavorting around England! I dread to think of the impact it would have on my reputation."

"Oh don't worry," Hastings said as he sat back down on the sofa and picked up the half-finished paper. "We're tired of England. We're moving on to Paris next!"

Hercule Poirot's eyes widened in shock as Arthur Hastings disappeared behind his newspaper.


End file.
